The Heart of the Bounty
by leilolil0
Summary: S&F Romance, written before I saw end of the show. Spike has another neardeath accident, which Faye saves him from. Little do they realize the changes that can occur. R&Rplz!
1. Prologue

**The Heart of the Bounty**

_A fanfiction_

**Prologue**

"SPIKE!"

Jet yells for Spike in vain. Only one person on the ship knows where he is. Maybe two. Maybe three, if you count non-humans.

"THAT STUPID LUNKHEAD!" Faye's whiny drone calls out from the common room.

"Huh?" Jet asks himself. He was cruising the halls of the ship. Faye's responding yell led him to her.

He enters the room to see Faye in the most outrageous fit he's seen yet. She has their computer in the clutches of her hands, her face is scrunched up and flaming red. Jet can almost see the steam rising above her head and out her ears.

"Whoa, what the hell's the matter with you? Put that down before we have a repair debt on our hands!" Jet says, with a fearful anxiety.

Faye turns to Jet, slowly, for dramatic effect. "Do you know where Spike is right now?"

Jet raises his eyebrow in confusion. He's not sure if this is a rhetorical question or if she's serious. "I thought you kne…"

"He's going after the latest bountyhead!" Faye says, angrily and exasperated.

Jet, now totally lost, scratches his head. Ein, who has now perched next to his side, lowers and shakes his head in shame of his master's confusion. How can Jet not realize?

"Shouldn't that be a good thing?" Jet asks, his voice rising higher in pitch with every word he spoke.

Faye is finding it harder and harder to hold in her anger. Her chest is heaving heavily and rapidly, as if she were going to explode any second. She set down the computer, yet her hands were clasped into fists, fists so tight it seemed she could break her own hands with the force within her.

Before Faye opens her mouth, Ed hollers from her unofficially designated hacking corner, "Spike-person is hunting for dragons!"

Even with this misinterpreted message, Jet understands completely. "WHAT? He's after those former Red Dragon thugs?"

"Yeah, the stubborn, arrogant fool," Faye mutters under her breath. "Even without Vicious present there, Spike knows what they're capable of. And there's more than one of them. He'll barely make it alive, if he even _can_ make it out of there! I told him to drop it with them, but he won't listen to me. He'll go to great lengths to revisit his godforsaken past!" Faye sighs with grief and anger, continuing the pace of her unhealthy heaving.

Jet turns for one second, saying, "We have to go…" He's cut off when he turns and finds Faye gone. He sees the trace of wind she left behind as she bolted out the door, and he catches a glimpse of her white boot out the doorway. He shakes his head and turns to Ein. "Either she's as crazy as Spike, or there's something more between them that we're all missing."

--

In a desert on Mars, Spike hides behind a crater. There's a dust storm kicking up, so his self-concealment is twice as effective. He's growing breathless, after having combated and run from his former friends, his newfound ruthless enemies. With the noise of the uprising dust and gusts of winds, Spike tries to calm himself to a more silent breathing pattern. He needs to hear if they're coming, where they're coming from.

Hawke and Sliver came prepared; they cloak themselves in leather trenchcoats and plate-glass masks so they may go forth against the wind more easily. They maneuver themselves with ease, holding up their coats and masks in one hand and their swords in the next. Just moments ago, they knocked Spike's gun and a stray bamboo stick out of his hands. As far as Spike knows, Hawke and Sliver only have swords in their hands.. They make their approach with as much stealth as they can manage, glancing left and right to find Spike, to finish him off…

--

Zooming through hyperspace to get to Mars, Faye frantically keeps contact with the Bebop. Somehow, Ed placed a homing device on Spike. She says she was testing something she had created a year or so ago. Insane though she may be, Ed definitely has her uses. Faye is subconsciously grateful for Ed's keen technological skill. She screams into the intercom, "Ed, where is he?"

"Spike-person in Agoda Desert in Mars!" Ed sings loudly and discordantly. "He's 40 degrees northwest of the capital city Maaaaar-sheee-aaaah!"

"Damn those Red Dragons!" Faye mutters to herself. She picks up speed as she closes in on Mars' atmosphere. She clicks on a navigator to make her descent more direct. With one hand, she steers her ship, with the other, she struggles to punch in the coordinates of Spike's location as quickly and efficiently as possible. "What's worse than losing this bountyhead is having to lose our bounty hunter!"

--

Within a matter of seconds, Spike begins to turn paranoid, envisioning mirages of his two traitors. He doesn't want to admit it, but he's afraid; these hunts, especially for anyone affiliated with Red Dragon Syndicate, are harder than he wants to give them credit for. What makes him the most fearful, somewhere under his feigned cool, brave exterior, is the fact that he is at a loss for his weapons. His martial arts won't get him far with these two. He knows they must have some trick up their sleeve, but he can't fathom what.

The dust storm doesn't help him much at all, either; the winds grow stronger, blowing dust into his face more rapidly. No matter how much he squints, he catches bits of dust in his eyes. These bits grow bigger in size the more the storm progresses. Too many grains have crashed onto his special eye; his vision grows hazier on his past-fixated eye. The storm is too strong for that eye to handle now; he has no choice but to close it. Closing it gives him no relief, but to keep it open would bring upon him greater damage; he feels the grains of sand seeping into his blood vessels, stinging every part of his eye. With one eye barely open, he looks quickly left and right, blinking more if he thinks he sees his adversaries. He holds his right wrist in his left palm, gripping it to stop the bleeding; they already sliced part of his arm.

Finally, he hears distinctive footsteps crunching into the mahogany sand. Their flare for style is their downfall now, or so Spike thinks. He knows they're near, and he becomes more alert. His own self-preparations are still too feeble to protect him from what comes next.

Just as he turns his head to find Hawke, his chest is met with the point of a cold, jagged sword. It doesn't pierce further into his body; it merely cuts through his shirt. Before Spike can even protect his body with his gripped hands, the blunt, steel handle of Hawke's sword plunges right into the center of Spike's ribcage. He doubles over in pain, now completely weak. Sliver stands by from a short distance, waiting to fire the hidden gun within his sword. Hawke proceeds to kick Spike in the stomach; Spike only realizes now that Hawke is wearing steel-toed boots. He feels his bones crushing underneath his skin. Hawke's foot nudges Spike over, leaving Spike facing upward toward the sky. "God, this is a cheap shot," Spike thinks. Regardless, Spike knows Hawke ultimately won.

Hawke grunts as he forcefully kicks every bone, every muscle, every joint on Spike's lower body. Spike begins to cough up blood, heaving in pain, gasping for air. His head is spinning as Hawke stomps on his legs with the heels of those lethal steel-toed shoes. Within seconds, Spike feels fully paralyzed. For a minute, the beating pauses. Spike, though relieved, knows there's only worse coming. He faintly hears the two conversing in the wind.

"He's going to turn," Hawke yells against the wind. "When he does, shoot!"

Without thinking, Spike turns to glare at his enemies. He wants to glare with disappointment, with anger, with shame. Just before his head turns to see them five feet away, he shoots a quick glance upward. He hears fire jets propelling. Someone's coming…

"ARGH!" Faye yells, trying to balance a fast approach and a safe landing.

Sliver and Hawke look up to Faye's ship, both in confusion. They see it rapidly approach Spike's body. Sliver stares hypnotized, while Hawke nudges his jacket. "Shoot him! Before that thing—"

Spike finally turns his head to see Sliver pointing his sword. "Dammit, I knew there was a catch," Spike thinks to himself. He turns his head upward again, and for the first time since he took to hiding his eyes open, gaping at the metal claws coming toward him. He recognized the ship as Faye's, but never realized she had it fixed up to include these … he supposes they _are_ claws. They grip his body just as the gunshot fires. Before he is raised into the safety of Faye's ship, the bullet grazes his side, right above his pelvis. As soon as the ship seals him in, he faints. His fatigue and weakness subdue him into an comatose slumber. Somewhere, his thoughts preserve his hopes of being alive.

Faye struggles to get the ship airborne again. Without thinking, she sets the ship to accelerate to hyperspace while on land. The ship propels her forward, making her nauseous instantly. She doesn't care that she's being fired at by Hawke and Sliver; all she wants is to get the hell out of there, no matter how reckless. When the ship escapes the atmosphere of Mars, she lets the ship stall in space. "He better still be alive!"

She squeezes through the ship to find Spike's body. Her sudden concern for his life surprises her a little. "It's only natural to hope for the wellness of another human," she thinks, "especially if he'll cost you a hell of a lot of money." This detached approach to her concern for Spike reassures her until she finally sees him. This is the most helpless and beaten she's ever seen him, and she's always seen him after these terrible accidents. She stops herself from thinking, "He should've seen this coming," when she notices little movement from his chest. Is he still breathing?

She bends her head over his chest. _Phew!_ Though his breathing is faint, he's still alive. Somewhere inside. "All this for a girl … a girl who Hawke and Sliver have told him has turned away from him, betrayed him!" Faye thinks to herself. "Here I am, someone who's annoyed with him more and more each day, taking care of him…"

These thoughts stop her amidst her attempts to resume her seat in the cockpit. Sure, she was annoyed with him. She was annoyed that he eagerly wanted to chase after this bounty. She was annoyed as she watched him work his way toward finding those two ingrates. She was annoyed with the stories she heard as she gathered her own pieces of the same puzzle. What annoyed her almost as much as Spike was the way Julia dismissed the relationship; it's unfair for a relationship one cherishes to be discarded so easily. "Spike deserves better… Wait, did I actually think that? I must be going crazy," Faye thinks aloud now. "This innate girly sympathy can really drive a woman nuts."

Faye steers the ship toward the Bebop again. "I'm NOT looking forward to explaining this one to Jet. Dammit, we're going to have to land somewhere again." As she pilots her ship, something stirs inside her. Even after all the times Faye has found Spike in these fatal accidents, this one feels different. It almost feels like a wind of change. Little does she (and Spike) realize how much a relationship can change course.


	2. Chapter 1: Sowing the Romance

**The Heart of the Bounty**

_A fanfiction_

**Chapter 1: Sowing the Romance**

_Eeeeaarrrrrrrrggggghh!_  
One more near-death accident and I'll seem more immortal than a cat. I really never know when to quit, because here I am bandaged from head to toe again, completely (and thankfully, temporarily) paralyzed. A searing cool shoots up and down the nerves of every limb, every joint; all I want is to just lift my head enough for the homely reassurance that I will be motile again soon. Every muscle— even small, ostensibly insignificant ones— aches with the greatest of pressures, enough that attempting to open my eyes is a daunting task. Luckily, I muster enough strength to make at least one of my intact organs function.

As I work to regain sight, to see the familiar ambiance of the ol' Bebop, my brain starts processing whatever stimuli my neurons can manage. I've been awakening myself with only partial consciousness. As my body starts to ease again, my ears, though wrapped, open their doors to the sounds of the ship; the suddenness of noise is a refreshing rush to my head. I cannot hear the cogs working within the ship to stabilize motion in space; I can only assume Jet is waiting on my recovery before we take off. I cannot hear the airy, easy panting of Ein; thank God. I do hear the soft clicking of a keyboard without the wacky, unidentifiable trademark Ed squeals. Amidst this layer of noise, something more striking begins to catch my ear…

A familiar tune… I may have been fighting in vain for Julia, but she possibly cannot be on the Bebop. My brain projects the distant memory of Faye's poor attempt of singing this song; I wasn't afraid to say she was off-key, especially since I was capable of doing so. Yet, even while I understand that this angelic melody isn't coming from Julia's sweet, red lips, I'm failing to perceive it as anything but. Faye rarely sings; she doesn't take any voice lessons either. Can it be … she's actually singing this nostalgic song correctly? I…

I stop myself from mentally squirming at the thought. There's something soft and beautiful about this notion. Usually one could easily say, "Hate the song, not the singer" or even, "Hate the singer, not the song." I do love this song, even with the bittersweet aftertaste of the memory attached to it. I'm not particularly fond of the singer, but her voice is growing on me. Though she's barely singing above the decibel level of a whisper, the tone of her voice is soothing. I get this sudden erratic watery flow in my stomach, but only for a second. What does this mean?

After concentrating so hard on figuring out what's ringing in my ears, I finally conquer the pain and open my eyes. My dilating pupils phase my field of vision, making it terribly difficult to readapt. How long have I been sleeping? Within seconds, I start glancing around feverishly to find the source of the sound that pleases me, that plagues me. I can't bear the thought of moving my head; my mouth seems like the next best bet. Slowly, I twitch the muscles in my cheeks, only finally realizing that my mouth is also unbandaged. A sharp inhale, pushing all my energy from my feet to my pharynx to my mouth, I manage to ask in a raspy voice, "Faye?"

Immediately, I hear a stomp on the ground. Ha. She jumped off the couch to see to me. Even this obnoxious move of hers does not repel me, as it usually would. All I want is a familiar face, regardless of whose it is. She peers over my head, her bold cerulean eyes beaming down on mine. Though she usually looks to me with cynicism, there's a genuine quality in them right now; she's concerned. Rarely have I ever seen her look at me this way. Why does it matter so much to me? I know this expression will be wiped away the moment we commence a dialogue.

"Spike?" she softly whispers. Ein's bark of alertness follows suit, and I hear his pudgy, soft paws strutting over to my seat.

I try to say something in reply, but instead empty air leaves my mouth. A sigh. That's all I could've mustered at the moment. I weakly smile; for what reason, I really do not know. I smile faintly, waiting for her to return to her loud, uncouth self. Instead, I see her eyes begin to glisten. What more does she have to be concerned about?

"Speak to me, Spike. Are you okay? What do you need?" Faye asks earnestly and still softly.

Before I can even process a thought, a flash of heat runs down my face and into my brain. Then four other splotches of heat follow; her fingers. She's touching my face so gently; not a caress, but a tender touch. Her fingers slide down my left cheek for a second; what is she feeling for? My pulse is in my wrist, my neck, not my face. … Warmth. She's feeling for my body temperature. Yet, there's something more lovely in the way she's doing it, something more temperate.

"Good, you're warming up," Faye says to herself. "Welcome back."

I feel a draft penetrating the bandages; she's getting up! I want to compliment her, to thank her for her song … but I'm completely incapable of doing so. As she's getting up, I watch her eyes with all the eagerness I could express; and she doesn't look away. Our eyes remained locked until all I could feel of her presence was the heat of her breath against my face. I glance up and down her face to see a return of my faint smile. And just as I inhale enough air to propel myself to speak, she turns and walks away.

I exhale deeply and slowly, allowing myself to think again. Why did it matter so much for me to tell her something kind, and not jarring? Why did it matter the way she touched me? What's gotten into me? This accident must've been rougher than I thought; I never expected a change of heart.


	3. Chapter 2: The World Anew

**The Heart of the Bounty**

_A fanfiction_

**Chapter 2: The World Anew**

What an idiot. What a danger-loving, danger-seeking idiot. He should've known that Vicious' posse would outdo him; they've all trained under Vicious' wing long enough to pick up on his battle tricks. Spike really can't afford to hurt himself time and again like this. I know he doesn't enjoy being immobile, so whatever pleasure he derives from all this is beyond me.

Jet left the ship to get more provisions for Spike. That's a dedicated friend for you; even with the blatant personal gap between Jet and Spike, there's still an intimate care for the other. Jet left me here to keep an eye on Spike; easier done than said. He's been out cold for 2 days already, and I've fully caught up with all the info on every possible bounty out there. Thankfully, Ein and Ed are quiet, so I could more easily hear for any sign that Spike still exists beneath his mummy dressings.

I start humming to myself under my breath; I don't know why, either. Maybe subconsciously I hope that it will awaken Spike like it did the first time I saw him in this condition. Maybe I just got sick of the silence. Whatever it was that compelled me to do so, I just hummed. For about a minute or two. I actually get into this euphoric state; it's almost nostalgic. Flashes of memories zip past my eyes, providing me with brief snippets of images of my younger self. Even though I can barely remember my past, I smile a little. I can only imagine it was a happier, more carefree time. Suddenly, I hear my name.

"Faye?"

A faint, weak whisper. Spike! The rush of something to do kicks up my adrenaline as I jump off and rush to his side. I can't understand why I gazed at him so gently; maybe I was lonely. I know the last thing Spike needs as he's regaining consciousness is my biting comments, so I approach him gently.

Sitting at the edge of the sofa, I softly press my legs against his side. Mostly to keep myself on the seat; even in unconsciousness he's selfish enough to take the whole damn seat. Ein nudges his head against my ankle; oh, Ein, and his bristly fur. I hear him sigh; maybe he was trying to say something. I get a sudden rush of fear; what if he's finally come to his end? I try to read his eyes; I see something helpless, a feeling Spike rarely ever feels. I yearn to know what he thinks, so I ask, "Speak to me. Are you okay? What do you need?"

From the little I know about first aid, I remember that body warmth is indicative of his heart beating. I could have very easily pressed my head to his chest or steadied my ear above his lips to see for signs of his consciousness, but his earnest eyes have ensnared me. I cannot let go of his stare; I am left with nothing else but to check for warmth. I reach out to touch his face; a quick shock of nervousness twitches my whole arm before my fingers land on his cheek. Why did I feel nervous? Maybe I was afraid of hurting him further; he'd yell at me relentlessly when he regains his strength if I hurt him. Although I perceived the warmth of his face, an icy cold weighs down my hand. My whole arm tingles with delight as my fingertips brushed lightly against his skin.

In an effort to end the prolonging of this awkward moment, I blurt out, "Good, you're warming up. Welcome back." I cannot understand this at all; I slowly arise from the seat to escape his stare, his locking stare. It became harder and harder to tear my eyes away from his the more I lost contact with his body. When I finally removed all physical contact from him, I nervously muster a smile. As quickly as I can manage, I completely turn away from his dominating presence.

Man, I really must be lonely. I haven't been with a man since … since I was unfrozen. I wasn't even with him, back then. Sure, I've gotten felt up here and there; that was all a ploy, though. My still-intact biological clock is signaling for me to settle; I figured the Bebop was enough. Every woman can be desperate for love, but am I really that desperate that someone like Spike can begin to allure me? Or was that allure there all along?

As these thoughts boggle my mind, I find my way back to my sleeping quarters. I needed time completely to myself to think; I can't bother myself with my promise to Jet right now. I try to logically administer what just happened in my head. Why did this moment leave my nerves a little jittery? It all just brings me back to the beginning. Aside from the obvious allure of adventure, why did being on the Bebop matter to me so much? What was it about the Bebop that got to me? I knew right away that Spike and I must've been close in age, even though mine is quite distorted. I suppose in spite of Spike's overbearing attitude, I could acknowledge that he is attractive. In a rugged, lousy kind of way. I want to criticize him for getting himself in this rut again, but suddenly those thoughts dissipate. All I can concentrate on, all I can picture, all I can think about are those eyes … those longing, dark, deep eyes…


	4. Chapter 3: Ingrained, ver 1

**The Heart of the Bounty**

_A fanfiction_

**Chapter 3: Ingrained, ver. 1**

Paralyzed. I'm physically paralyzed for another two and a half days. Jet updated me on this as he administered his amateur physician check-up and diagnosis. My physical inabilities don't bother me right now. I find myself mentally paralyzed. My mind is fixated on those eyes … those fierce yet gentle star-burning blue eyes. I try to shake it off, but those eyes have been imprinted in my retinas. I want to look away, but no matter where I drive my attention to visually, I can only see those eyes.

There was something different, something electrifying about her presence for that passing moment. I know I'm one to dwell on the past, but it's never been as haunting as this. I've been suppressing my longing for my past life for years; I've been suppressing my desire primarily for Julia. I'm surfing a wave of confusion as I'm continuously trying to process that monumental event from earlier today. I've been searching for and pining over Julia, a love long lost and moved on for three years. Yet, Faye can't escape my mind. Her stare was the most beautiful I've ever seen, next to Julia's. God, I never thought someone so parasitic could ever become lovely.

I've tried throughout the afternoon and evening to nap. But her eyes glare at me even when mine are shut. She really knows how to creep under your skin and stay there. I've been locked into her stare for hours, and I can't sleep because I just think about her. I lie and wonder, hypothesize. She could just have a hidden maternal instinct. That sounds almost believable.

No matter what other sounds pierced my ears through the course of the day, I could only hear echoes of her voice calling out to me, her shy humming. I'm eager to see her again, mainly so I can just settle the score. Sometimes confronting something as haunting as this finally gets it to go away. But she hasn't returned to the room since she left me with her sweet, "Welcome back."

Even though I've been virtually asleep for two straight days, fatigue settles in on my body again. In welcoming it, I hope to cloud my thoughts with conscious concentration of calming my nerves for slumber. Instead, thoughts of Faye blend with my efforts to fall asleep. Though these thoughts disturbed my attempts for sleep earlier, they help appease me. I find myself smiling as I slip into unconsciousness, thinking only of Faye and the hopes of a quick recovery.


	5. Chapter 4: Ingrained, ver 2

**The Heart of the Bounty**

_A fanfiction_

**Chapter 4: Ingrained, ver. 2**

It's midnight. The ship has been silent and in sleep mode for a good two hours now. Yet, here I am, stirring about in my bed. My situation is quite bothersome to me. I'm lying awake thinking about Spike. Spike and his mangy hair. Spike and his corny catch phrases. Spike and his pride for his martial arts skill. Spike and his broad, strong shoulders. Spike and the jarred curves of his whole body. Spike and his deep, raspy, cool voice. Spike and his hypnotizing eyes…

What am I doing? Spike is fixated on Julia, whoever this woman is. Spike is arrogant, and stubborn. Yet all I can do, aside from trying to rationalize why I'm still thinking about him, is worry. All I can do is stop myself from slipping into thoughts of those few instances I've seen Spike's body in its natural glory. God, I'm really desperate for a man.

I mean, Spike purposefully keeps himself at a distance. He's hung up on his past. I am, too, only I'm trying to regain it so I can better understand myself. Spike has his identity. I've always envied that.

Good! Normal thoughts about Spike. Ha, who names their kid Spike? Ein should've been named Spike. Oh, brother, there goes Ein again. But, he's nudging at my door. I sigh and open the door.

With a haggard look on my face, I look intently at Ein and ask, "What is it, boy?"

Surprisingly, Ein is quite chipper. Usually at this hour he is out like a light, like the rest of us. Except for Spike on occasion. Ugh, I really have to stop that.

Ein just turns and walks away. I guess he wants me to follow him. I hesitate, propping myself up against my doorway as I gather the strength to go follow Ein. I know he's a data dog, and there's got to be something more to his brain capacity, but this is really nonsensical. He's leading me to the common room. Is there some sort of special edition of "Big Shot" playing? I'm perplexed by Ein waking me for this aimless midnight stroll, when I suddenly realize where I'm heading.

There he is. His hand lays off the couch, now only partially bandaged. Jet must've fixed him up a little to ease the pain in his arm. Even in the darkness, I see so clearly the curves of his fingers, the traditional prominent blood vessel running down the arm as a sign of muscular strength, the smoothness of his skin. I'm perfectly awake and conscious to hold myself up, but I start feeling weak in the knees. Agh, talk about corny! Why am I excited about an arm?

My eye starts to draw attention to his heaving chest. He's breathing. He's very much alive, and sleeping, thank God. This reassurance should only take two seconds, yet I linger on his chest. It's as though his muscular stature ripped through some of the bandages, exposing spots of his clearly chiseled torso. Jet probably unwrapped whatever has already healed itself. Spike sure is resilient. And appealing … when he's not himself. Which is what he is right now. An unconscious, unmoving Spike is by far an anomaly for him.

I snicker to myself at this thought, and my eyes wander to the lower half of his torso. More bandages were removed, exposing his abs and more than half of his pelvic region…

_Slap!_ I really must be losing my senses to fatigue if I'm even going to start wondering about _that_. Being a woman does suck on occasion, especially with this biological clock nonsense. Although I am way too rambunctious and rowdy to handle a kid of my own, nature sways my heart toward that longing every once in a while. Naturally, this leads to any lustful desires that arise. This is one of those natural lusting occurrences. Nothing more. Right?

I'm snapped out of my thoughts when I hear a faint grunt. Is he awake? I saunter over to him as quietly as possible in case he's still sleeping, and he is. The pain of his limp arm is starting to get agonizing to him. I watch as his eyes wriggle with pain, those sweet eyes. I kneel down beside him, take his arm, and absorb the warmth of his body through my fingertips. His skin is more delicate than I had previously experienced. I gently grip his forearm and lift it, placing his hand onto his chest and resting his elbow against the couch. I slide my hand off his arm to prolong my touch. His softness indents my skin. This was more sensual than I had planned.

Before I get up, I look one last time at his face. His muscles relaxed, I can appreciate the contours of his face more. His face is so familiar to me, yet, staring at his serene self, I learn something new about him. The appearance of his jawline becomes more striking, the curves of his eyes, his pointed nose. His lips, pursed together, slowly slide into the grooves of his smile. Not his slick, bounty hunter smile. A genuine smile. The smile I saw him slip into earlier today.

As I continue my gaze, the air in my stomach drops, again and again. The look into his eyes, though closed, is fatal. I'm sealed in.

And then I realize, he's probably dreaming about Julia. I never thought I would, but I cried for Spike, for longing for him. I feel so ashamed for even piecing together the thought of being with him. I possibly can't see him again, not till he's healed. Maybe that will be the cure. The normal Spike will remind me of our differences.

I quickly get up and stomp barefoot toward my room. As I fall asleep, I force myself not to feel his sting.


	6. Chapter 5: Weighing the Differences

**The Heart of the Bounty**

_A fanfiction_

**Chapter 5: Weighing the Differences**

Strength. I've finally regained some strength. It's really helped my brain process my thoughts more easily, more sensibly. Jet and sometimes Ed (ugh) help me eat the little we have; they give me the soup to give my jaws a rest, and they are sore to no end. They've helped me recuperate elsewhere, too; my legs are still achy, but I can, with Jet's help, sit upright and support myself with my arms. Ah, it feels good to move a little more. And removing some of those bandages is the most liberating experience I've had of late. I can't wait to be on my feet again.

I wonder what will happen then. When I start functioning by myself more normally. I know Julia is out there, but more and more I've begun to care less. Julia's infectious femininity … her flowing blonde hair, her soft, creamy eyes and skin … it's suddenly being replaced by nothingness. Vicious, Gren, everyone I've met in my years as a bounty hunter have all implied that Julia has most definitely moved on. Her elusive nature, our enigmatic affair confuse me still. I've felt for her, passionately, and so easily I'm thrown away. Am I? Sometimes, I think, What's the use of wondering that now? Clearly she's moved on. I've ostensibly moved on, but I have nothing to finish off cutting my ties…

Except for her. On top of the nothingness about Julia, I am barraged with thoughts of that sleek, short hair, the skimpy yellow outfit, the nude thigh-highs, those bold, gorgeous blues … Even though I haven't seen her at all since I awoke first from the accident, I can only envision her. It's crazy, too. I feel her presence around me sometimes, especially at night, as though she were watching me…

I immediately conclude that I'm still delirious. I must still be sick. After all, a healing man should be eating more than mere broth. Even so, I feel perfectly fine; living the way we do on the Bebop, I've grown accustomed to meager rations. Jet says my health is skyrocketing to normal, yet my head still feels unscrewed. I do wake up a little nauseous, but rational thought reassures me of my wellness.

However, Faye creeps into my rational thought. I try to remember those beautiful times with Julia, to fantasize about her, and Faye's slender body replaces Julia's in my memories. The filmstrips of these pictures rip apart and reassemble as my brain processes thoughts of Faye to take Julia's place. I'd shake my head on occasion, hoping some physical motion can help wean her away. Ein has already ridiculed me for it, with his confused but mocking stare. I don't want to lose Julia, even though I know I have.

Why does Faye matter all that much, anyway? She's just caused more trouble on the Bebop. She's another mouth to feed. Another person to account for. Another blabbering mouth to listen to. Her mouth, her lips, pressed in that small smile…

Agh! I slap my forehead, hoping once again to use a physical motion to clear my head, and to no avail. Julia was a radiant beauty, with eyes that stole into your soul, a breath that can toss my stomach about, a body that aroused me. She knew exactly how to soothe me, with her actions, her traveling, all-knowing hands. Then Vicious betrayed me, and in a way, so did she. She never sought me out again. But why? How?

My doubts about Julia open the doors for Faye. I've always noticed her face, her body. It's undeniable that she's attractive. Even Jet can attest to that. I've familiarized myself with her, yet thinking on her now makes everything about her body brand new. Her shiny hair, though short, seems so silky and just as feminine, if not more so, as Julia's. I wonder what it'd be like to run my fingers through her hair, down the curves of her body. She really is quite a tease with that tight yellow vest, zipped down just enough to expose the crevice of her breasts. The low cut shorts, exposing her elegant thighs. As I recall point by point every feature of her body, I wonder with longing what it must feel like, what it all must feel like. I haven't been with a woman since Julia, and I'd have this arousal once in a while. But never like this. Never with this new fire. Never with this uprising passion.

I feel lightheaded as this rush of Faye drowns me. I have to see her…

"Jet!" I yell. Thank God I finally have the strength to yell, let alone talk.

That worried ol' boy. His loyalty amazes me. He runs right down, probably thinking I'm ready to walk. That's probably what he hopes, too. I know he's getting cabin fever.

"What's up, Spike? You feelin alright?" Jet asks eagerly.

"Where's Faye? I feel like I haven't seen her at all. She hasn't taken off, has she?"

"She's just locked herself in her room. Women, you never know with them," Jet replies, lighthearted and laughing. He doesn't even question why it matters to me that I see Faye. Maybe he's seen this dormant attraction all along?

"Ha-ha. Um, okay. I guess if she didn't take off, her being locked up is the next best thing, eh?" I reply, weakly and unconvincingly. Man, this is pathetic.

As Jet leaves, I grind my teeth in anger. Why the hell does Faye plague my mind? She IS the plague! Faye and her bubbly eyes, longing for … something. She was longing for something when we were trapped in one another's stare. Maybe it was for me to return to my old self. As much as I want to fight the thought, I give in and start wondering, "Maybe this longing is mutual."


	7. Chapter 6: The Vigils

**The Heart of the Bounty**

_A fanfiction_

**Chapter 6: The Vigils**

I'm too timid to go see him during the day. The mere thought of seeing his scarred, masculine face in daylight unnerves me. I've restricted myself to my room and the cockpit. I cannot let Spike see this newly arisen weakness in me. It'd be enough for him to crush me further. It'd be too much for me to suffer, just staring and wondering whether he'll ridicule me or be thinking of her instead.

I've always been more nocturnal than anything. I only have the strength to see him at night. And he looks glorious at night. The way the dim lights from different corners of the room beam upon every contour of his body accentuates his broadness, his strength, his beauty. The Greeks knew how to appreciate the body; Spike's would be perfect as a model for an ancient Greek statue. His whole stature exemplified the magnificence the Greeks glorified in the human anatomy. Even in lying down, Spike knows just how to wear his shoulders, his arms, his gentle face.

Gah! What am I thinking? This newfound curiosity is forming into a dangerous habit. I feel like a stalker, just staring at Spike in the middle of the night, keeping Ein at bay so as not to wake Spike from his sweet, serene slumber. In spite of being so apart from myself, this reconnection to my romantic, feminine side rushes into my head with all familiarity. I guess it's only natural. I guess just seeing one specimen of a potential mate is enough to arouse those natural urges. It _is_ just Spike.

The past two nights, I'd sit at his bedside for two hours, longing to touch his face, to feel the roughness and stiffness of his muscles. Every once in a while, some of his hair would fall, limping, almost touching his forehead. I'd gracefully catch these mischievous strands before they touch him, before I touch him. Slowly, each time, I'd readjust his hair, spiking it up the way he usually does. My fingers would linger there, too. I'd have urges to just run my fingers through what I now realize is soft hair. Maybe I get that urge from my disgust with my own head of hair. Yeah. That has to be it.

Each time I sit down beside him, my heart would thump harder. Not with pain, but with a sense of urgency and longing. I smile from ear to ear as I stare at his restful face, watching his lips purse as he breathes. They're perfectly positioned for … He has to be dreaming about Julia, about pressing his lips against hers, across her skin. Dammit. Maybe I should've stayed at Blue Crow.

Every time I leave his side, I hesitate. I grow tired and weary, but his presence rejuvenates me. When my head begins to droop, I muster the strength to get up. I, however, cannot ever look away, not until I immerse myself in the darkness of the halls of the ship. I do not need to see him in daylight to know that this glory is kept intact. Oh, but I long to. I both fear and impatiently await the moment he's up on his feet again. I want to end these nightly vigils, but I've grown to cherish them so quickly. Maybe when he's on his feet, I can resume normalcy. Maybe.


	8. Chapter 7: Normalcy Amiss

**The Heart of the Bounty**

_A fanfiction_

**Chapter 7: Normalcy Amiss**

It's been three days since we took off. I'm not completely on my feet yet, but I can thankfully move about on my seat. I'm sure Jet was getting sick of being in one place purposelessly. I was, too, even though I had no say in that matter. I'm just glad I can sit without anyone's help. There's nothing worse for your pride than being handicapped the way I was.

Ed would entertain me throughout the day. Indirectly, of course. That kid has really grown on me. She would be hacking into, God knows what. I'd listen to her cracking codes. What she lacks in martial arts expertise she makes up for in just mental genius. In spite of her annoying tendencies, I'm glad she's on the ship. It's not that we catch any more bounties; she just makes the work easier for us.

Ein has grown on me, too. He subtly clues all of us in on what's going on amongst each other or whatever hunt we're working on. He isn't much of a nuisance, like other dogs. Especially like the dogs I've known in my past.

Then, there's Faye. I want to say to myself that she hasn't grown on me, that she'll always be the same, obnoxious, mischievous girl. Yet, I can't remove the spark in my eyes when I catch a glimpse of her. Surprisingly, that's all I've seen of her. I'd see her slender, curved back walking away from me. Or maybe a profile of her small, delicate face. I look on her with much more ease than I used to. Okay, she has grown on me. But this … the way I see her now indicates more than just her growing on me. Something's grown, and it's not just mere familiarity.

When I zone out here and there throughout the day, I expect flashbacks of Julia to return to me. It's almost as if she's being blinked out of existence for me. I see nothing … nothing but Faye. Her fighting instincts as she zooms around in her ship, her sly looks, her wily smile. I don't shudder at the thought anymore. I don't welcome it either, but I just let it happen. It's almost as though I'm still too weak to keep myself mentally in tow. Damn women. They're always trouble from the start. Especially Faye. Especially … Julia.

She's the primary reason I cling to my past the way I do. More and more the vision in my left eye is clouded. My past with Julia becomes foggy and unclear. The past my eye looks upon now is that with Faye, whatever sort of past that was. Visions of her from when we first met, from every bounty we'd hunt, from that one melting stare.

I'd perk up when I hear echoes of her voice streaming down the halls past the common room. When I hear the clanking of her heels, I turn, hoping to see her. I must admit, I have been lonely. Jet is wonderful company, but someone has to drive the Bebop. Faye only passes me by, as if I were nothing, as if I weren't there.

I really want to work on another bounty. Then she'll have no choice but to speak to me. We'll have no choice but to finally confront each other. I'm anxious, but willing. I'm ready to work. I'm ready for Faye.


	9. Chapter 8: The Final Vigil

**The Heart of the Bounty**

_A fanfiction_

**Chapter 8: The Final Vigil**

I have more reason to hide now; Spike is mobile. Not fully on his feet, but he can move about. He's more aware, more conscious. I'm both grateful and upset; I'm only upset because I have no other means of looking upon him without being questioned. It's hard to fight the urges of not seeing him, of not thinking about him, of not wanting to stop thinking about him. I can never explain how or why, but his last accident made me open my eyes to him more. Or at least to his mortality. To my mortality.

I put out my best efforts to avoid him. You know, those silly girls' ploys that are only done for the sake of preserving a crush. This, however, is more than a schoolgirl crush. Every hour it feels more fatal. Every time I avoid him, there's more fear erupting inside me. Ignorance really would be bliss; if I never knew about Julia, I would be more courageous. The threat of someone so distant, someone clearly moved on is so heartwrenching. And girls _are_ delicate creatures. At least I've maintained that thought through my on and off stay on the Bebop.

It feels as though all this time we've both been pretending. Or at least I have. Our quarrels, our disagreements, our mild contempt for one another … _those_ were the acts of a juvenile crush. That was our denial. Perhaps this all was just waiting to happen. There's always been that special something about our connection, only back then I never called it special. Something always kept us crossing the same paths; maybe it always has been attraction.

I've been careful about when I catch glimpses of him. What's worse is he teases me with his half naked body. Jet already got Spike back into his pants. Otherwise, the torture would've intensified, the torture of only staring at a body I long to touch. I only scan him down when he's turned away, I hide in dark doorways to see his profile. Ein would begin to bark in my direction, stupid dog. He always comes close to ruining my secrecy.

At night, I've become braver and braver. I've managed to touch his face again. I'd dab his skin with my fingertips. I even pressed my fingers against his lips as compensation for being unable to meet them with my own lips. His temperament is sugar-coated the more I think about him, the more I see him in recovery. I'm really waiting to snap out of this infatuation; I know as soon as he resumes his normal self and we go after a bounty I'll be repulsed, as per usual. While I expect that, I really don't want that to happen. I don't want this bliss to end. This is the most real reverie I could ever be caught in. It was hard to let go of thoughts of him from the start, and it'll be even harder to let this more tangible relationship go to waste.

After another aimless day, floating in the space outside of Jupiter, I sit by my bedside and watch the time pass. I am waiting, waiting for that perfect nocturnal moment to execute my ritual. I twiddle my thumbs, tiring my senses of my skin, preparing my fingertips for the refreshing feel of his skin. Finally, it's 2 a.m. Perfect.

I tiptoe toward the common room. I hear from the doorway his coarse, silent snore. He still struggles to breathe. Poor Spike. If only I could help ease that pain.

I feel hypnotized as I walk toward him. His aura lures me next to him. Graceful and petite, I kneel against his seat, taking his hanging arm and placing it atop his body as I have before. Without hesitation, I stroke down the side of his face, moving wisps of hair out of my path. An icy tingle seeps into my pores all over, filling my body with a sense of exhilaration. I sigh aloud and smile, with a twinkle of a wistful tear in my eye. I haven't felt like this about anyone in so long, and it both hurts and feels stupendous to feel it again. His presence truly had me under a spell; it was like I had no control over what I was doing hovering above him. I watched his face in the streams of dimmed incandescent lights; his peaceful eyes were smiling. He may be thinking of Julia, but I won't let that get in my way. I continue the dream; I tell myself it's me he's smiling at. I tell myself he knows I'm there, and for once he's glad.

Suddenly, his face starts to cringe. Perhaps he's just having a nightmare about the accident. Or maybe… I look down to his chest. His torso is slightly raised, but tense now. There's some inner pain that I cannot understand, but he feels. I gently press my hand to his chest, applying the littlest amount of pressure to calm him. As his body starts relaxing again, I boldly take the hand that lies upon his chest. His hand slides easily into the palms of my hands, almost as if it were a perfect fit. I soak in the feeling of his warm, smooth skin. A bleak thought suddenly crosses my mind… This may be the closest I'll ever get to touching him. I fight the tears of realization with a smile, so that I may cherish the moment. I was holding his hand in midair for a while before I realized he might feel the strain of his arm. As I resume his hand to its resting position, my hands stay attached to his, and I drop my head close to him. I smile sweetly, in what may be called a feigned bliss, because I find myself in a position that I've longed to be in with a man. Just resting gently against him.

With my head pressed against his chest, I feel his breathing. The slow heaves of his inhale, the deflation of his exhale. Its rhythm becomes lulling, but I fight the urge to fall asleep. The last thing I want is to fall asleep and be awoken by Jet, Ein, Ed, or even Spike himself. I'd be humiliated! As I sleepily blink my eyes in poor attempts to stay awake, I look to his face. His defined features look appealing in any angle. I begin to smile euphorically when I notice his face begins to stir… His chin starts moving forward; he's moving his head up! I'm too tired to process what this means. I see his eyes— lazy, too— blink frantically. His eyes are trying to adjust to the minimal lighting. When they both open, I look into his eyes. For the first time, I see clearly the distinction between his mismatched eyes. Yet, it was either the low lighting or my own vision impairment maybe, I heard cogs in his operated eye at work. The color began to resemble more and more his normal eye with every breath. I was hypnotized, not even noticing any other expression on his face. Before he drooped his head back, my awe-filled gaze turned its attention to his lips. He smiled. A breath of air escaped his lips, as if he wanted to say something. "… Aye," I heard, faintly. Instead of running away in fear, I continue to kneel and reflect.

After a minute or so, I left Spike alone to rest up. I couldn't help skipping lightly down the hallway. Whether it's true or not, only one thought motivated me now: he spoke my name, lovingly.


	10. Chapter 9: Recovery Almost Complete

**The Heart of the Bounty**

_A fanfiction_

**Chapter 9: Recovery (Almost) Complete**

_Aah!_ I awake from a relaxing sleep. I'm trying to gather my thoughts when it hits me. Was it me or did I see…

I wriggle my body to awaken my senses. My legs… I can move my legs more easily. I bend at my knees and extend several times. Slowly, first, then quickly. Yes! I think I can finally fully move. Without further hesitation I leap out of bed, landing on my feet gracefully. I take a step; no pain. _Aah_… I am recovered… _agh!_ My chest still hurts.

Thankfully, though, I can walk. Which only means I can go after another bountyhead real soon. _Real _real soon, thank God. I don't care what time it is, I'm gonna tell Jet. He has to know. I'm pretty sure we're almost out of stock of food. I wouldn't know, since all I'm getting is broth. If that's what it is.

I turn to go to the cockpit when I see an elegant silhouette in the hallway. _Huh?_ I shoot a confused look toward the doorway. Those curves, they remind me of … before I even think the name, I know it's not her. But I'm allured by this body. My mind is numb to the obvious answer for this body's identification. I feel like time slows down as I watch her walk past. She's going the same way I am, so I might as well follow her. I want to. I have to know who it is.

I tiptoe, so as not to draw attention from her. I stealthily follow her. The ship is still dark all over; either it's really early or she and I are the only ones awake. Somewhere in the back of my head I know where she's going, yet the mystery of her beautiful body clouds my logic. I watch her legs, her long, what I think are bare legs, take each step with grace. I follow the swaying of her petite hips. Her slender fingers sweeping the air, her short, frazzled hair…

Suddenly, the lights turn on. I almost don't notice because the difference is so slim. But it's enough… enough so that I can see her in her underwear. Or is it lingerie? God, how this teases. She probably isn't aware that anyone else would be awake at this hour, or else she would've covered herself up. Thankfully she isn't aware that someone is watching her, because this is a real-life fantasy I cannot give up. Her dark, lacy panties hugging every curve, her thin straps holding everything in. I smirk that usual smirk of a guy scoping out a girl, only without the trademark guy attitude. All I can think is, "Wow."

She turns toward a door. She's going to take a shower. That's when I notice the small towel at her hand. As she makes the turn, I hide in an empty doorway right before the bathroom. I turn in time to see a profile of her entire body. Her whole body is so toned; her arms, her abs, her thighs. Her breasts are firm, unmoving with every step. Her face, her pretty face … By now, I definitely know it's Faye, but it doesn't phase me.

I wait a few seconds as her body disappears into the doorway. Call it a guy's instinct, but I wanted to see more. I hear the creak of the hinges… I have to see her one last time before I see Jet! I dash out of my hiding place and catch the door with my pinky. I press my ear to the door; it seems she didn't notice. I hear the light patter of clothing dropping. Ooh, man. I breathe heavily; I can't help being turned on by this no matter what woman is doing this. I hear heavy steps into the shower and the pull of the curtain. Yes, she's in. It may be safe to catch a glimpse. I open the door a few cracks, just enough to peer through. As the water turns on, I see the shadow of her glorious naked profile. Her face looks more and more delicate, even if I'm not staring at it eye to eye. Her breasts … I can now see her cold, upright nipple, the completion of an alarmingly appealing secondary sex organ. Her stretched torso, her back arching to enjoy the steam of the water. Before I turn away, I catch a quick glimpse of myself in the mirror …

My eye. I know my eye is supposed to be a different shade of brown, by several distinctive degrees. I know I'm staring at my surgically fixed eye. Yet, it's color … it almost matches my other eye! I focus my neurological concentration on that eye … can I still see my past? I zip through the scenes still captured in that eye, and all I can see are scenes. No faces, except for mine. It's like old memories are being blinked out of existence…

Impossible. You can walk away from your past, but never forget it. Or can you? Faye has. Not by choice, but she has. Faye… before I leave her in privacy, I stare once more at her incredible body. I just want to touch her, to feel her…

I quickly walk away from the bathroom, picking up my stride more and more with every step. My head's in a muddle of utmost confusion. I long for _her_, yet Faye consumes my thoughts. I try to identify the "her," when … J… dammit, what was her name? I vaguely remember her flowing blonde hair, her soft … skin, was it? Eyes?

Just as I reach the cockpit, I come to the conclusion. In terms of reconciling my past and the presence, I'm far from recovery.


	11. Chapter 10: Out of Touch

**The Heart of the Bounty**

_A fanfiction_

**Chapter 10: Out of Touch**

I could've easily started after some bountyheads, but Jet insists that we wait for Spike's recovery. "The last thing we need is _two_ disabled bounty hunters on this ship," Jet said to me just moments ago. _Sigh_. I do love this work, but I also just really need to get off this ship. I need to get away, especially from him.

It's not that I'm repelled by him or anything. I've pretty much accepted the fact that now I am attracted to him. For whatever reason, this attraction just isn't going away. I'm sick of the denial, and I'm just hoping for the feeling to die. I'm also sick of rationalizing it. I'll leave that for Spike to decide, if the attraction is even returned.

There are times I think it is, though. The few times I'd even allow myself to look him in the eye I saw a change in his general temperament. He seems kinder more and more, especially when he looks at me. I'm either going paranoid or he really is changing. Or am I the one changing?

This whole situation is just so perplexing. It just brings me back … Not to the time I first entered the Bebop, but why I was going crazy over the last bountyheads we were chasing. Yes, I was aggravated that Spike was so stubborn about it. Jet and I were really uneasy, and only told Spike to proceed if he'd get one of us to help. God, he's so arrogant he didn't even bother to ask for help! I _was_ with him throughout the whole investigation. Jet made sure of that. I remember there was something appealing about the passion he had in cracking down on the mystery. Was that how it started? Was it my longing for such a passion, either for myself to feel or for someone to feel for me, that made me act the way I did?

Dammit, I'm rationalizing again. If only there was more to do on this ship other than walk around and, well, in my instance, hide. All I care to think about is hiding allows me to protect the secret, but confronting him can give me the answers…

Unfortunately, I have nothing but a bed and a few dressers in my room. It's really not meant to entertain. I've paced this room up and down maybe 1,000 times by now. I give in, I submit; I go into the common room to watch "Big Shot," my last remaining hope for my boredom.

I slowly creep up toward the living room. Is he there? No one is there, actually, as I peer through the doorway. _Aah!_ It's a comfort to know that, at least for a few moments, I can be alone and away from my room at the same time. I walk up to the computer screen and tune it to the show. Thankfully, "Big Shot" is on. I hate when my efforts go in vain.

"Howdy, Cowboys! It's time for another episode of Big Shot! The show just for the bounty hunters! Here's the skinny on the latest bounty head:

"Lenny Carver, a weapons manufacturer, has taken a turn for the worst with his money AND materials. He was last seen on the moons of Jupiter. His bounty is shooting up, too, since he's been listed for a while now. Catch him and you can get your reward of … 60 million Woo-longs! Just remember, kids, the bounty's rising the more he gets out there!"

I shut off the screen. Perfect. That kind of bounty can totally make up for the time we've lost on the ship because of Spike. Ugh, Spike. It seems like time has to stop for him so much; he allows it to happen, too, with that eye of his. That eye… I'm still haunted by my last vigil because I saw the eye change. What does that mean? That Spike is quite the mystery, and so is this newcome feeling for him.

I sigh and start to get up, and a booming voice startles me in my place, making me grip for the ends of the seat. "Good to know you're still alive," Spike said, cool and sly. After I get over the sudden shock of his voice, I glance at him confused. I'm waiting for a sarcastic comment to follow, an addendum.

"That's it? No 'It started feeling good around here without you' or anything?" I ask, feigning a similar cool tone in my voice.

Spike chuckles lightly. I think he even blushes. "Nah, Faye. I'm still too .. agh! .. worn out for that," Spike says, suddenly bending over slightly by the doorway.

This maternal instinct thing is really throwing me off in this relationship we have; I hurry over to him, ready to mother the wound. "Hey, take it easy. Are you okay? Can you make it back to your seat?" I take the arm supporting his weight on the doorway and drape it over my shoulder. My insides flutter a little as I notice his shirtless body's close proximity to mine.

"I thought I could," Spike says, wincing in pain. He's having trouble breathing, and he applies pressure to his chest with a weak fist.

"I'll help you walk over, okay?" I offer. So far, so good … so abnormal. No biting remarks, no cynicism. I'm still waiting for that slap in the face of reality; I'm waiting for the heartbreak.

As we walk over, I start feeling the overwhelming weight of his body over mine. I cringe and wince a little; I really am such a lightweight. I limp as much as he does, and even grunt as we make it halfway to his seat.

"Ugh, are _you_ okay, Faye? I know I pack on a bit of weight," Spike said. The tone in his voice is almost reminiscent of the way he'd speak to me before, when we were definitely unfriendly with one another.

"I'm a strong girl, I'll make it," I insist, now struggling to speak and grunting a little more. I grind my teeth and allow myself to continue. I'm surprised I didn't start with the snide remarks.

When he finally reaches his seat, we both sigh a huge sigh of relief. Spike scratches the back of his head, unconsciously flexing his beautifully developed tricep muscle. "Ugh, thanks, Faye. You didn't need to do that," Spike replied, meekly.

With the energy returned to me, I'm able to compose myself and feign a cool attitude. "Oh, it's no problem. Besides, it's better for you to sit here than by the doorway for hours. You'd be blocking my way and I'd have to move you anyway."

Spike laughs, but without an angered retort. Did he actually find that funny?

"Take a load off, have a seat," Spike says.

I finally bite the bullet as I sit and ask, "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"I should ask the same about my rescue," he replies, still with that trademark cool tone of voice. Although, I see in his eyes some nervousness deep inside. He's either a damn good actor or he really is just the same old Spike.

I am stunned by his question. I just stare blankly, my eyes gaping, not knowing how to respond. I don't want to ruin the mood now with what I said to Jet earlier: "What's worse than losing this bountyhead is losing our best bounty hunter!" No, I can't tell him that. This new vibe between us is growing on me. I'm getting so attached now, and letting go would just be emotional suicide. All I can do is shrug, and I do. "I'm not that inhuman. I would never want anything to happen to Jet or you, no matter how much we get on each other's nerves."

Spike looks down a little and smiles. When his head returns up, there's this new aura in his look. His eyes seem grateful, happy, lovelier than ever. "Thanks," he says. Before I get a chance to respond, he adds, "Before you even ask, I guess we can say after so many near-death experiences, it can eventually change your perspective a little."

If I was blushing before, my face is now completely fire red. "Oh, I didn't mean to—"

"I know, Faye," Spike says. And he's right, too. It really feels like we finally have a mutual understanding of one another, a nice understanding at that. "You know, Faye, this is kind of nice. Kind of peaceful. We're already under a lot of stress with money, have been for a while. Maybe … maybe reducing the tension between us could help."

"And the almighty Spike backs down," I blurt out, with a hint of cynicism. Dammit! If I could just slap myself in the face, I would…

"Yeah, I know, strange isn't it, Faye?" Spike replies, ignoring my comment. "Honestly, though. I guess toning it down between us can be more productive than counter-productive. What do ya say?"

I stare at him. He's smiling. He rarely smiles at me, except for when he's started waking from this last accident. His eyes are glowing, beaming. I don't know why. It's odd to me, but it doesn't scare me as it has the past few minutes. It's almost like he understands, he can see right through me. Maybe he understands my attraction. Maybe he even returns it…

I focus on his eyes. I almost forget that they're supposed to be different, because now they have an equal amount of depth in color. His eyes are so glorious now, and so different. What changed him? Hell, why should I care what changed him? Inside, I'm glad that things could be different between the two of us. "You're right," I say, sheepishly. I start to walk away, feeling too nervous to continue a conversation and thinking the conversation is over. For some reason, I walk right past him. The attraction feels so magnetic— we constantly find ways of being close to one another. I swing my arms in my gait, and just before I'm completely out of his reach, I feel the scrape of his hand, reaching for mine. I stop mid-step to half-turn toward him. His eyes look eager, a little disappointed, but his smile persists. I can only smile faintly back, and then I rush out of the room.

I've stopped questioning the why and how completely now. All that consumes my thoughts is this: "I'm falling for Spike Spiegel."


	12. Chapter 11: Defining Her

**The Heart of the Bounty**

_A fanfiction_

**Chapter 11: Defining Her**

I really miss being with a woman. The more I see Faye, the more this longing grows. The more the longing grows, the more I find myself attracted to Faye. Not that being attracted to her is a hard thing to do. Jet and I would both easily admit that she's attractive. We have, privately to one another. She really isn't like any other girl. She isn't like … Julia.

I finally remember her name after the struggle to recall my past. Although her name brings out clarity, I find that I can't reflect on her the way I have before. I only see scenes of the past; no faces, no events, nothing. Am I finally moving on?

I suppose I am. I jump on every opportunity to be with someone on the ship. Yes, even with Ed. And Ein. But most especially with Faye. She seems to be walking around the ship more; I still can't understand why she was nowhere to be easily found a few days ago. Was she hiding? Why would she?

She did seem nervous when we first conversed after the accident. It was … dare I say cute. She was twitching and wriggling her nose, and her eyes … those bold, bright, beautiful eyes … trapped me into an enchanting stare. I'm surprised she hasn't been with as many men as we had expected.

I look for ways for Faye to help me out. I wait till she comes around to ask for help with food, even if it means almost hitting complete starvation. I ask her to help me walk around a little, just so I get the ol' legs working. As we'd walk, I'll admit it. I am a guy, and I haven't been with a woman for a while. Like hell I'll ever be with Julia again, no matter how much I wanted it. No matter how much I may still want it, if that's even true anymore. My head hangs low a little when I drape my arm over her slender shoulder, and she pulls me in close enough for my head to almost touch hers. I look down her shirt, and I observe the curves of her almost overflowing breasts. I'm tempted to slide my arm down around her waist, and let my hand brush her thigh. When she looks up at me, I find myself beaming, and anxious. I glimpse once in a while at her lips. I burn with a desire to touch her, to navigate her body with my fingers.

My slow recovery doesn't phase me. It's about time it took a while for me to really get back on my feet. The more I am still in need of her help, the more I get to spend time with her the way I have been. I see Jet glance at us in confusion sometimes, especially when she helps me walk. I don't even care if he can see right through my act; I just want to feel Faye, to know her.

Two days after that first conversation, I lie in anguish. I'm not gonna lie; it really gets to you if you've been out of practice for over three years. I guess that's what was the major drive for my next move. Even though I don't see it, I know what echoing footsteps mark Faye's shower time. Her body has tempted me too much, and I've been in longing for much longer than the time I've spent with her. I take the plunge; I'm gonna try asking for assistance in the shower.

By now, my legs are more stable, much stronger. I scurry toward my room, which, thankfully, is in very close proximity to the common room. I shove down my pants and grab my towel to wrap around. If she is at all attracted to me, this might help convince her to allow me in. I half skip, half limp toward the bathroom. I see a sliver of light; the door isn't completely shut. It's almost as if she was able to predict that I would come in.

I open the door just as her panties slip off her waist and down her legs. I take a second to stare at her nakedness. Her body is so beautiful. It awakens my carnal instincts. I have to have her…

She turns around, and there isn't even a distinguishable startled look on her face. She gives me this stare … this sweet, almost seductive stare. As if she didn't care that I saw her naked (again!). Without turning her body to me, she asks, "Do you need something, Spike?"

I'm so tempted to tell her that what I need is her, but I keep my cool. I open the door enough to reveal my whole body to her. I stop the door with my left hand and hold up my towel with my right hand on my waist, putting on a cool, collected pose. "I still feel kinda weak and was, uh, wondering if you could help me with my shower?"

I flash a sly smile at her, and for the first time she really seems to welcome it. I enter the bathroom and shut the door behind me. Without even censoring her own nudity, she turns to face me. My mouth gapes open, still maintaining a pleased smile. My eyes are smiling, too, as I gaze upon her sweet eyes and down her beautifully defined features. The perkiness and firmness of her breasts, the indents in her abs, indicative of muscle, her slender and curved waist, those long, luscious legs… I absentmindedly drop my towel, and continue my awe-filled stare. As much as I want to touch her, I want to linger on this moment.

Her stare is unphased by my nakedness; her eyes remain on mine. We walk toward each other, and she reaches out for me first. She strokes down my arms, looking upon them as she absorbs the sensation. Her face remains unchanged as she catches a direct glimpse of the rest of my body. She looks up, now with a sense of eagerness added to her already enchanted stare. I wrap my arms around her waist to draw her in closer. Logic has escaped both our minds; we just let our instincts guide us.

I move my arms to rest on top of her buttocks so I could raise her up a little. I lower my head to meet hers, and press my lips against hers. Within an instant, both our lips open slightly, expanding the surface area of our kiss. Our lips slowly close, entrapping one another's lips in our mouths, and reopen with greater earnest. I open my palms to gently grip her cheeks, and she immediately wraps her arms around my neck. I think of nothing else but the joy of this feeling of having her beside me. I draw myself closer to her, and my arousal intensifies. I feel myself harden, and she does too; our tongues caress as the kiss prolongs. The moment I'm completely upright, Faye pushes herself up and wraps her legs around me. We both push our pelvises forward, like magnets pulling themselves to stick together. I easily slide inside her, and we both pause the kiss to let out sighs of pleasure. For a second, we both look into each other's eyes again. It's like we acknowledge what we're doing, and who we're with, and we have no regret in our faces.

As we kiss again, we both pull away from each other slightly. As we push into one another again, I feel a light bite on my lip. I smile, mid-kiss, as I pull away from her again. My tongue brushes against hers, taking in the taste of her. I begin walking toward the shower, reaching one hand to turn on the hot water. The shock of the water doesn't stop us; it serves to further heat the moment, the experience. I press Faye against the wall so that I'm the only one who has to push and pull; regardless, she persists the natural motion. Her legs gently push against my back, helping me keep the tempo she wants. I just want to please her. I always aim to please the woman; it pleases me just as much to be able to be this intimate and to have a woman direct it for me. That's how it was with _her_; but now, _she_ didn't even matter anymore. I never once thought of the past times; all I can focus on was her, Faye. I could only focus on her soft sighs, her smooth, wet legs, the warmth I felt being inside her.

What was most striking about it all was how it all proceeded. I first entered with lust on the forefront of my mind. But as we made love, there was no animalistic lustful passion propelling us. We weren't forceful with one another, the way loveless sex goes. There was a depth to it. There was something deeper in the way Faye would look on me, the way she slowly would arch her back, the way she guided my hands to feel her body, the way we kissed. There was urgency, but there was greater passion.

And being in that shower was just cleansing. It was like rebirth. Rebirth from the terrible accidents. Rebirth from a prolonged attachment to the past. Rebirth of a relationship that seems more promising with every moment spent with _her_.

Even though we were only in there for fifteen minutes, time was suspended as we gently thrust ourselves into one another. I never wanted to stop, and from the way she gripped me tightly, kissed me sweetly, and slowly guided my motions, I don't think she did either.


	13. Chapter 12: Another Paralysis

**The Heart of the Bounty**

_A fanfiction_

**Chapter 12: Another Paralysis**

I've been sitting on my bed, stunned. I can't think of anything else; I can't think of what to do with myself, who to go to, who to talk to, whatever. There's only one thing on my mind. Well, maybe two. I can only think of Spike, and the sweetest, most passionate sex I've ever had … and it was with him.

When he finally finished, he pressed his forehead against mine and looked into my eyes, beaming. His arms were weak and he let go of me, and I unwrapped my legs too. As my feet fell to the ground, we just continued to stare. I was too stunned to know what to do after that point. He reached back to shut off the water, without turning his eyes away from me. "I guess we're both cleaned out now, huh?" he said, boyishly. He placed his hand on my waist to nudge me out with him, and he handed me my towel. My next move after that was stupid. I smiled, blushed feverishly, and rushed out of the bathroom, without even taking my underwear with me. I can only assume he took it with him. I don't even want to know what he's doing with it now.

That was this afternoon. It's now almost midnight, and I still haven't left my room. Jet came to see me, just to check if I was alright. I've seen his expression as he'd watch me and Spike sometimes. I'm sure the sight of me staring blankly at my wall wrapped in a towel with unkempt hair was the topping for the cake of confusion he's built in his head. I said, almost zombie-like when he came in, "I'm fine. It's okay." I am, but I'm just hypnotized by that moment. And by his face.

And it's not that the sex ached me; that's not what's preventing my motion. I feel like, moving on will obliterate the moment. That any slight motion can erase the pleasure of the memory, maybe even the memory itself. I don't know why I'm thinking that way; whatever it is, I've fallen deep now. It can't be stopped. I figured that act would just remove the infatuation, but now it's progressed. This isn't a silly crush. This isn't a silly infatuation. This isn't even immature lust. Because I felt something when we made love. It wasn't just sex to me; there was this passionate air floating between us, within us.

Suddenly, my door opens. Spike, fully dressed in his usual garb, knocks as he pushes open my door. He does a double take, because he notices I'm still in the towel, undressed. "Uh, am I disrupting something?" he asks shyly.

I shake my head out of the hypnosis. I still feel unable to move my body, so I only turn my head to him. "What? Oh, no," I reply. "I, uh, I just…"

"You don't have to explain," he says, still only peering through the door. He drops a small burlap bag into my room. "You forgot this in the bathroom."

At least he's not a pervert. That was sweet of him. I don't even give this act a second thought. So what if it's an unusual way for him to approach me?

"I, uh, was gonna hand it over in the common room, and I got worried when you never came back. Ed had to walk me around," he continues, chuckling a little.

I laugh too, mostly out of nervousness. "That must've been an interesting experience."

"Ha, yeah," he says. He looks down, and there's an awkward silence that fills the room. After a minute, he steps completely into my room and shuts the door.

"Faye, um, thanks, for this afternoon," he finally says, breaking the silence. I notice him biting his lip; he's probably unsure of the appropriateness of his comment. I'm not even sure either; I'm not offended, but it also feels unnatural to say that. If anything, he's referring to his clever ruse of asking for help to shower.

I almost blurt out, "Anytime!" But that would just demean the whole thing. It would really make me seem easy. And I'm sure he and Jet must've thought I was easy when they first met me. After a moment's pause, I say, "No. Thank you." Now it's clear we're talking about what really happened.

"Yeah…" Spike stammers. He twists the doorknob to leave. "I'll, uh, leave you to sleep. Good night, Faye."

There was a tenderness in his voice as he left. Even with the blaring awkwardness of the whole moment, he knows how to make things right. When he shuts the door, my senses finally awaken and I slouch my shoulders. I sigh, in relief, and in longing. I really don't want to mess this up. What I said about Spike before the accident still holds a little bit of water. We can't lose our best bounty hunter. I can't lose Spike.


	14. Chapter 13: Answers

**The Heart of the Bounty**

_A fanfiction_

**Chapter 13: Answers**

Considering what I've gone through in the past, I often attribute any confusion to surrealism. I convince myself otherwise after things are cleared up, but that element will always be there. And here I lie, once again, stuck in a web of surreal events. I reflect on everything that's happened since my last accident, and just wonder. What perplexes me most is my eye … it's like it has a life of its own, whether it was programmed or not. Those doctors were off their rockers for making it function the way it has. What happened? Why is it changing?

Why am _I _changing? I don't regret what happened with Faye earlier, not at all. It uplifts me and scares me to think on that this way. I'm hanging onto my past by a thread now, and I'm still so unsure about letting go. Am I abandoning myself? Am I becoming myself? Faye has pervaded my thoughts, my life. Julia is just lingering in the echoes of distant memories. Who can I live without? Who can I let go of easily?

As much as I can't stand women, I would never want to bargain them the way I am with Faye and Julia. Do I want Faye more because she's here, in the present, more prominent in my recent memory? Or is there something more? Have I wasted time on Julia?

Talk about a regression. Of course sex changes everything in a relationship between two people, but I never imagined I'd be in this psychological turmoil. It's enough that I still have physical bruises to heal. Goddammit.

I wonder if Ed can help me about my eye. Once I understand that better, maybe I'll have more answers about everything else. The only thing I'm sure of at the moment is my desire for Faye. It still hasn't died. I didn't think it would, considering how we made love. I can't even label it as just sex, and I don't think she can either. I almost wanted our physicality to wipe out feelings for her, so that I can live in peace with my lonely self. The moment she touched me, I threw away that idea. It really gets me.

_Clink!_ I turn in all directions quickly, ready and alert for anything and anyone. I completely forget that having an invader on board would be a difficult thing to do, considering where we were, but I couldn't help myself. In the life I once lead, you always had to be on the lookout. I hear soft footsteps and panting, and I smell the distinctive scent of dander. Ein. He's probably looking for something to eat.

Just as I relax the tension in my shoulders, I get a wet, furry nudge at my foot. Ein is poking is nose at me. What the hell? I look down and pat him on the back. "What do you want now, Ein?" His expression when he looks up at me seems to ring out more than acknowledgement; it's like he knows something. He's exhibited surprisingly intelligent insight in his own ways; we all should expect something like that if he was a data dog on the run. I'm not fond of critters, but I wanted to give him a chance. As I've said before, I'm a desperate man.

I pick him up, gripping his sides, and hold him up to my face. His tongue hangs out as he smiles. "Hey, Ein, can you help me figure something out?" Just his panting stare. I move him so he looks directly into my surgical eye. "You see that? Why is it changing color?" The instant after I ask, I realize, "Goddamn. You're talking to a dog. You're asking him something he can't easily give the answer to." He sniffs my eye, blinks a few times, then softly barks. I jolt back in surprise, and accidentally let go of him. He lands safely, perfectly, and softly on his feet and scurries away. I knew it. It was pointless.

But within seconds, he returns with something in his mouth; some toy Ed found somewhere, possibly on some crazy adventure with Ein. This toy, this device was like a lava lamp, only without the light bulb and in tubular shape. There was a floating bubble of plasma in a bold aqua hue. I see his mouth crunch on it a little. "No! Ein! Stop that— that's probably toxic!" I yell. I wriggle my nose and raise an eyebrow in shock when I realize Ein only cracked the outer shell slightly with his teeth. I look with deep bewilderment as I watched what happened next.

The bubble burst, and the color began to swirl all inside the tube. As the plasma swirled throughout the tube, the color changed, darker and darker with every passing second. After about ten seconds, the liquid stopped, moving only in linear directions with the wavering of Ein's head. Instead of aqua, the tube was filled with a softer, more natural blue. The blue of twilight.

Without questioning Ein and the fact that he's merely a dog, I instantly understood the demonstration. I brought my hand up to my eye, stroking underneath it. Why? How? How did it burst? I try to think back to the accident; after all, this change only occurred afterward. I instantly remember the sensation of the sharp winds and dust blowing against my face, onto my eye. I recall the pain of the stinging sands blasting against this eye, this particular eye. I remember feeling the struggle in my veins, my blood vessels, as I shut my eye in agony. That's it. The dust storm did it.

But now that it did, and now that I knew somewhat, I don't revert my train of thought. I feel liberated, finally understanding something that made things the way they were. Nostalgy for the past remained, but in a less intense form. The saying "Past is past" is more believable to me now, more tangible. I can't stop myself from thinking about things the way I do now. I figured I'd still cling helplessly to my past with Julia knowing what I know now about this change in my eye; instead, I'm growing more attached to Faye. My eye can't look back now; it only wants to look ahead.


	15. Chapter 14: Discoveries

**The Heart of the Bounty**

_A fanfiction_

**Chapter 14: Discoveries**

I finally was able to fall asleep last night, especially after that brief but pleasant visit from Spike. Our relationship is becoming less jarring the more we're attracted to each other. Well, the more _I'm _attracted to him. It's hard for me to gauge what's going on inside of him, especially because I know enough about his past and just his own persona. He's so attached to it, or was. I want to be hopeful about the change in our interactions, and I am. I still cling to this fear that he will crush this euphoria with the reality of his inability to escape his past. Yet, the changes in him that's making this work are becoming clearer and more distinct. Especially after yesterday. Can it really be true?

If anything, by now everyone on the ship has caught wind to what's going on. Ed almost started chanting that stupid "kissing in a tree" song. I shut her mouth as Jet and Spike walked into the common room. I don't know if it made much of a difference, because Jet smiled at me in a way he never has before. He even spoke to me when we had a moment alone.

"I'm glad that you're finally feeling happy on the Bebop," Jet said. He's right; I am happy. But there was a definite knowing undertone; he knows why I'm happy.

I'm still too afraid to approach Spike. I've lost my past already; I don't think I can take losing anything— or anyone— else. The few times we bumped into each other today, though, we managed to touch each other some way. We're never that touchy-feely. I suppose sex can do that to you, too. Aside from making a girl go heads-over-heels crazy, regardless of the circumstances under which the sex occurred. He'd grab my arm to ask me something. Or he'd delicately place his hand underneath my chin. He'd brush hair to the side of my face. Each short little instance felt marvelous; I was floating on a cloud for many moments afterward. Call me crazy, but I think I'm in love. No, I _know_ I'm in love.

Does that make it any easier to approach the situation as a whole? Definitely not! Females are extremely delicate! Especially me. I've experienced the disappointment of unrequited love. Though it was only really once instance, I can't recall any worse pain that that. Even the physical pains from any fights I've gotten into for bounty heads don't measure up to my heartache. My emotions really sway me through everything in the every day. And now, Spike is the one controlling my emotions, and so Spike in a way controls how I go about my day. It's like I'm being hypnotized, but I'm willing. I will do whatever it takes to keep Spike Spiegel.


	16. Chapter 15: Investigations

**The Heart of the Bounty**

_A fanfiction_

**Chapter 15: Investigations**

Now that I'm fully recovered, I insisted that I start looking into the next possible bounty head. Before I even get a chance to research, I find Faye hovering over the computer screen. I'm glad; I can jump at the chance to be with her again.

"Who's our next victim?" I inquire, in my trademark slick tone of voice.

Without straying her stare from the computer, she replies, "Lenny Carver. Weapons manufacturer. Every hit he does, he tests his latest developments. Thus, every hit produces worse and worse casualties and environmental damage."

"Alright. Have we figured out any pattern of attack?" I ask, leaning in closer to her. I position my head by the nape of her neck, and I instantly breathe in her aroma. She smells so sweet, and I can't help the longing to taste her…

"He's specifically choosing bigger and bigger buildings, and each of these buildings are owned by companies affiliated with the production of his weapons. He started with the assembly line factory that just merely constructed the parts. Then he started moving up to ammunition production, marketing, and I have a feeling he wants to move up into governmental buildings. He has a political history, and he probably wants to legalize his material. The ultimatum for the lawmakers? Legalize, or die." Faye's voice sounds so unnatural, as if she's trying to hide. Or trying to suppress.

I now turn my body to face her, lean my elbow against the table, and move my head in front of the screen. I flash her a dashing smile and say, "Excellent work." I wink, but maintain a kind, genuine smile. I shut off the screen, never wavering in my stare. "You deserve a break for your hard work," I tell her. I place my free hand on top of her hands, bunched on top of the keyboard. I see her skin shiver a little, as I breathe softly upon her and touch her.

We gaze at each other for what feels like forever. Her eyes reveal a sense of longing, but there are hints of questioning. What is she trying to see within me? She consumes me, in ways I never imagined. Slowly, I see fear rising in her eyes as her eyebrows arch slowly and slightly. What does she need to be afraid of?

Instead of asking her what's wrong, I take the careless, impulsive move of leaning in for a kiss. Before I even get to shut my eyes, she says nervously, "I'm gonna see if there's anything to eat. Do you want something?"

I shake my head. I'm longing to know what's holding her back now. I continue to look on her as she slowly removes her hands from underneath my hand, and I feel the air of emptiness and incompleteness fill me. She turns and walks away, quivering.

I sit there, paralyzed by confusion. Faye is so prominent in my mind that my usual logic fails me. When she leaves the room, I get up to look for Jet. I need some insight, and if Faye cannot provide it, Jet must.

I find Jet repairing something on my ship. He's whistling, the jolly ol' guy. I'm sure he must be feeling way more optimistic now that I'm back on my feet again. I startle him with my voice, asking, "What do you think is up with Faye? She's been acting strange lately."

After dropping a wrench, Jet chuckles and turns to me. He neglects his wrench, which is odd. His time to repair is important to him. It completes him, like his bonsai trees. "Don't you see past it? I'm surprised you can't," Jet replies, almost too loudly.

"What?"

"She's falling for you. Maybe she's already fallen," Jet says, beaming with a smile. As much as Faye gets on his nerves, it's clear that he cares deeply about her, and her welfare.

"Of course I can see _that_, but she's been very timid. At least for the past day and a half or so. What's stopping her from just jumping on the opportunity? She's usually a little bolder than this," I respond.

"Women are delicate, Spike. When they become attached to something, or someone, they don't want to imagine ever letting it go. She's still attached to her past, in the fact that she longs to know what it was at all. Do you know she cries some nights in agony because she doesn't know? I've even seen her with a picture from that guy who faked her out after she was unfrozen. She was hurt by that. As much as she wants to be attached to someone, you know how she can act irrationally with people. She's afraid of depending on anyone a lot," Jet answers, his voice booming with wisdom.

"She seems willing to depend on me, or even just all of us now. There's got to be something else," I say, in utter confusion.

"C'mon, Spike. Think about it. Think about _you_. With an attraction as deeply cut as hers, she has to consider the possibilities of how you feel. No matter how much you're returning the attraction, she knows enough about you to instill that fear of _your_ attachment to the past. She's not afraid of you, she's afraid of Julia. And she's afraid of Julia because she's afraid of _losing_ you," Jet tells me, now placing his hand on my shoulder. The look on his face expressed the encompassing nature of his observant wisdom. He has seen through this, possibly even from the start.

"Julia… her memory feels more and more distant the more I spend time with her. What's the threat there?" I ask, innocently.

"Just keep that in mind. Faye is so sensitive that any indication about her can set her off. In what direction, ha, who knows? She can be destructive, as you know, but hopefully not self-destructive."

Ending on that note, Jet whistles again and turns back to his work. I turn and start to walk away, lingering in the doorway. I need to find a way to let her know that Julia is my past, and _she_ is my future.


	17. Chapter 16: Releasing the Tension

**The Heart of the Bounty**

_A fanfiction_

**Chapter 16: Releasing the Tension**

As much as I want to stay isolated to contain my fears and my worries, it's just driving me nuts! That's the thing that sucks about being the only woman on the ship. No real social network. Ed is just a kid, Ein is, well, just Ein, and Jet and Spike have their own chemistry. I can't tamper with that. Goddammit, I'm gonna have to submit and find some way to talk to someone. Anyone.

I always choose the quiet times to look for someone or something to do. I'm also coming at a great loss of what to do. Since Spike's healing accelerated, I've stopped my night time vigils. I really miss that. My only other way of killing boredom is drawing up a bath, but I can only do that so much in one day. I could play with Ein, but that would require tolerating Ed. And right now, that's too much distraction for me to handle.

I sigh as I exit the door, and my body leads me to the common room. It's vacancy is welcoming; I go toward the computer screen and try to find something to watch. As I'm flicking through, I hear footsteps behind me. Oh God… is it…

"Bored there, Faye? Don't worry, we can start on that bountyhead tomorrow," Spike says, almost cooing.

Can I avoid this? Do I want to? I'm so shaken up with fear and confusion that I can't even turn and acknowledge him. Then, I feel his body next to mine. He's sitting next to me. It feels amazing, but scary at the same time.

"Hey, loosen up. It's just me, you know," Spike says, smiling that handsome, cool smile of his. It hits me at this moment that it's a dangerous thing to fall for Spike Spiegel.

"Sorry," is all I manage to respond. I become very jittery, shaking from both being cold and just being so goddamn nervous. He shimmies his jacket off and places it atop my shoulders.

"That better?" he asks, kindly. He takes my right hand in both of his, first just feeling it. Then he squeezes my hand gently, as if he's trying to warm me up, and calm me down.

I shake my head. Why must girls lose their composure so easily in situations like this? Now this is going to drive me mad.

"I know you're probably thinking this is a little, well, out of the norm for us. But I just want to show you that I _am_ glad you've joined the Bebop," he says. The hand directly on top of mine rises to brush some hair away from my face, specifically my eyes. "I know you've heard me grumble about women, but you're different. You're great. Sometimes crazy, but in a good way."

I chuckle a little, absorbing all the warmth he's transferring to me. I'm becoming more empowered to return to my normal self. "When you've got nothing and no one else to live for, and nowhere to go, anything goes."

"Hey, what are you talking about? Nothing to live for? If that were true, you would've left the ship and gotten picked up somewhere, somewhere rotten," Spike chimes in, coating his cool, deep voice with concern.

I look at him, with emptiness in my face and eyes, "Then what _do_ I live for?" The moment the words escape my lips, I immediately answer the question in my head. _Him_. I live for Spike.

He comes up with a better answer, though. "To be loved." There's a glimmer in his eye as he utters the word "loved." There's a strong air of acknowledgement in those words. He longs to regain love. I long to even feel it again. And maybe, we acknowledge that this love can exist between the two of us.

My tension instantly goes away when the hope of returned love fills me again. The tension loosens me up so much that I just fall onto his shoulder, my hair brushing against his neck. Everything feels natural again, even though this is a highly unnatural scene. I close my eyes in contentment, taking in everything of the moment, of Spike. He lowers his head to kiss my forehead, sweetly, tenderly. I don't know how long we stayed there, in each other's arms, but this moment enlivened my passion to a new level. I want Spike Spiegel to show me what it is to be loved.


	18. Chapter 17: The Mistake of Impulse

**The Heart of the Bounty**

_A fanfiction_

**Chapter 17: The Mistake of Impulse**

That moment with Faye last night was beautiful. It was warm, cozy, welcoming. I think I'm finally getting through to her. I've never wanted to so badly, and I'm glad I'm progressing.

I wake early the next morning, to look at what Faye has found out. Either Ed helped her out a lot or she's just getting really damn good at this job, because this was the most thorough information ever. I start perusing the information, specifically of the sites he has attacked already. He's a smart guy; he takes a hit on different planets. But he won't be hard to trace. Not with Faye's skill, and mine.

Each place had exponentially greater casualties; Faye was right. He's aiming bigger and bigger. And it's just disgusting. She even got a list of who was present at the attacks, survivors and deceased. I begin scanning faster and faster, and a million flashes of faces zoom past. I stop at the last attack site and linger on the photographs. This last attack is striking, because the next best target would be on the same planet. Lucky him. We got him.

His last attack was on Mars, at the headquarters of an environmental organization leading the protest against contamination of natural resources. Naturally, this Lenny Carver devised a weapon comprised of a necessary natural resource: water. He built a bomb that exploded water, creating a hurricane and tornado in a contained area. Of course; he flooded down the building and made it self-destruct from the inside out. He's been utilizing all the elements, but surprisingly not fire. Bingo. His next attack will use fire, in some way…

I decide to take a glance through who and what was there, directly affected by the attack. I scan through, finding over a hundred photos of faces for each floor of the headquarters. Suddenly, a face flashes by that's so familiar…

"Julia!" I gasp. I frantically search backwards, to find out what she was doing there and why. Why the hell would this environmental crap interest her? They wouldn't protect her from the syndicate, from Vicious. I shudder, hoping somewhere in the back of my mind to not know why she was involved in this. That woman can be too much trouble … I miss stopping directly on her information several times, and when I finally find it, there's nothing there. But something was behind me; I hear a stir and a faint gasp.

"You're gonna go looking for her again, aren't you?" a tear-filled, brink-of-sobbing Faye asked contemptuously.

I turn around, and my heart cringes as I stare upon her broken face. Her hands are clenched, tense with anger and disappointment. Disappointment in _me_. Curiosity definitely killed the cat, because I have no intentions of seeking out Julia. She's probably left Mars already, and I have what I want in front of me. But I'm helpless; I have no way of indicating what I feel inside.

My mouth opens, trying to blurt out a response. Empty air just escapes me. I get parched, not knowing what else to do, how else to function. And she just glares at me, a heart wrenching glare I never wished to bring upon her.

"I should've known," she says, crying bitterly, shaking her head to herself. "Now you have more motivation to get out there, right?"

I continue to stare blankly, fear rising from my stomach and up my throat. I can't let her think this way, feel this way…

"I guess you also figured out what's Carver's next move, right? Guess what? I did too. But since we're running on separate agendas here, it's every man for himself. And why do you even want to try? Her name screams trouble. Haven't you had enough? Aren't you done with the games, the accidents? I'm going solo, because I want to collect this damn reward and I just can't stand to see you self-destruct like that anymore!" she says, booming with a cloud of contempt, heartache, jealousy, and arrogance meshed into one.

Jet's silhouette fills the doorway now; Faye was loud enough to alert probably the next passing ship. She storms off, stopping to tell Jet her intentions and get him out of her way. "I'm going to the Martian Capitol. Alone!" She grunts in his face and he fearfully steps aside. We hear the stomping of her boots and her ship frantically take off.

"What did you do?" Jet asks, angrily.

"I stopped to look at this," I say, returning the anger. I point to the screen, and Jet instantly smacks the back of my head.

"You know that's what she feared all along!" Jet continues. "Are you going to search for her?"

"Look into my eyes, Jet!" I respond aggressively, shoving my face in front of his. I point to my surgical eye. "Look what's happened! The color is more natural. Faye has helped me start to let go of the past!"

"Goddammit, she'll be too angry and distracted to do this job right. She'll create more destruction! We got to stop her," Jet responds, worry blanketing his face.

I take his arm to stop him. "No, Jet. We have to save her."


	19. Chapter 18: A Fatal Mistake of Impulse

**The Heart of the Bounty**

_A fanfiction_

**Chapter 18: A Fatal Mistake of Impulse**

Tears are streaming down my face, and into my mouth. It tastes so bitter. My chest heaves as I fight my crushing sobs. I can't believe him. I just can't. I don't want to believe what I just saw, but he made no objecting response.

As I'm flying down toward Mars, my anguish consumes me. I know I'm flying recklessly, but it's the only way I can materialize my anger. And hopefully by letting it all out now, I can function properly when I find that damned Carver. The last thing we need on the Bebop is another failed bounty hunt.

Within minutes of taking off, I'm within reach of Mars' atmosphere. Foolishly, I don't slow down. I just need to get there; I need to get this job done. I need to prove myself. I need to get my mind off Spike. Of course, Spike dominates my thoughts. He's there in every turn I make, in every tear I cry. Goddamn you, Spike Spiegel.

I crash land into an empty lot at the outskirts of the city. Thankfully, the Capitol office is close by. I feel like I'm on a race against time; Lenny better not be there, fulfilling his twisted political message. Adrenaline pumps throughout my bloodstream, and I sprint over to the capitol.

If he's already made it there, the last thing I can do to contain the damage is to get everyone to leave. As soon as I walk up the steps, I realize he beat me to the punch. He's discussing the evacuation himself.

"We can be an indestructible race! There are evils beyond of unknown but magnificent power! You fools! How can you not support my genius? MY POWER?" Lenny yells, his voice coarse and booming. "How can you live with yourselves in this fear, and this apathy?" He paces around the lobby, with a ball of fire in his hand— the bomb. "You know how? YOU WON'T!"

Gunshots shatter the glass doors of the lobby. I fire a machine gun I snagged off the Bebop frantically, to get Carver's attention. Immediately, the wails and screams of people underscore the gunfire. People begin to leave, and alarms go off to signal evacuation. Good, at least I got one thing covered.

The bomb still in hand, Lenny turns to me, trembling with this sinister anger. I've ruined his plans, and he glares at me with this ruthless, vicious stare. He tosses his bomb behind him, and it doesn't go off. Goddamn. It's timed. I look for a few seconds upon the bomb, long enough for me to not notice him pull out his own gun.

He starts shooting at me, each shot piercing the air with a deep, sharp boom. These aren't normal bullets; they seem enlarged, and they're sharp at the point. His specialty. I avoid the first few shots, until one grazes my ankle.

"ARGH!" I yell, wincing in pain. I bend down, gripping the wound. I lose my balance; I start rolling down from where I was standing, at the top of the stairs for the entrance to the building. I land sharply on my side on the middle landing, assuming the fetal position as I continued to grab my ankle. "Goddammit it!"

"That's right, goddammit!" Lenny Carver retorts at me. He followed my fall, and now I'm staring at his boot. He kicks the side of my head, pushing it so I turn upward to face him. He bends down, his shadow stooping over me. The handle of his gun strokes my hair. "You're a bounty hunter, aren't you?"

"What's it to you?" I answer slowly and raspy, cringing in pain. I shut my eyes, unable to take the sight of him. Suddenly, I hear more gunshots, but they're distant. I turn my head to the side again and open my teary eyes; Jet and Spike are shooting toward him.

"And you have a posse? Goddammit!" Lenny yells. He kicks my back with enough force to push me down the last set of stairs. I land at Jet's feet, bruised and scraped, and still bleeding from Lenny's jagged bullets.

I suddenly feel his feet step away, and I don't know why. I keep my eyes shut, containing the tears of my pains as much as possible. Not only did my anger materialize, but also the hurt within me. I hear guns continue to fire to my side; they've taken the fight elsewhere. I wait a few seconds to see if it's really safe to try to get up. I muster the strength to prop myself up, while still gripping my bleeding wound. I've grown weak; the adrenaline has escaped me. With little energy, I finally stand upright, swaying a little from nausea. I turn to my left, toward where the boys are firing. Spike glances at me quickly a few times as he shoots at Lenny.

I then commence my last stupid mistake of the whole ordeal; I look toward Lenny. His face is scrunched up in anger, frustration, and aggression. He fires his gun as if it were his last hope for life; in a way, it is. He's already wounded several places, though insignificant. Spike and Jet _are_ good shots. When the boys run out of ammunition, Lenny turns to me. His face was consumed in this devilish glare; he smiled sinisterly as he reached into his pocket. He lightly tosses something small, round, and orange into the air. I'm so weak I cannot even fathom what it is.

I look again toward Spike. I feel it; the end is coming. I'm going to end my life a failure, never accomplishing what I want, never truly having what I want. Looking upon Spike would be the topping of the cake; he encompasses all my losses now. But his expression is one of fear and shock. He's in the midst of reloading when he suddenly yells, "FAYE! LOOK OUT!"

And the next thing I know, I fall to the ground…


	20. Chapter 19: Settling All Scores

**The Heart of the Bounty**

_A fanfiction_

**Chapter 19: Settling All Scores**

How could I have let her go away like that? As much as I want to beat myself up for hurting her, I focus my concentration on saving her. That will be my redemption. I can't let her die this way, just like she couldn't let me die…

Jet jumps into my ship and we take off, cruising toward Mars as fast as reasonably possible. Jet yells to me, "If she's hurt, I'll take care of him." Thank God for Jet, and his understanding. As much as he knows he'll need my help, he cares enough about me and Faye that he lets me go after her.

With passion burning in my heart, I steer toward a lot near the Capitol. Her ship! Damn, she's probably there with Carver right now. How fast did she fly?

I jump out immediately after landing, loading my gun and running toward the building. I already hear the people screaming and running away from two blocks away. This is gonna be one hell of a fight, and one hell of a riot.

I hear Jet, panting a little behind me, cocking his gun. My mind is spinning, wondering with worry about what has happened, what could've happened, what _can_ happen. My stomach drops when I stop in front of the building; he's harassing her. Goddamn son of a bitch…

I fire aimlessly at him; he's going down. How dare he beat up a woman, especially _her_. Tears of anger stream down my face as my passion to kill and passion to save consume me. He kicks her down, as if she were a limp corpse. I fire more earnestly as soon as I see her roll down the stairs. And then he has the audacity to start running away; I take him on for the chase.

Suddenly his bullets come flying at me. I bend and duck in all directions, catching glimpses of his deadly creation. Pointed bullets? I glance quickly to my right to see Faye, helplessly gripping her ankle. He shot her too? _Argh!_ I can't lose someone else; I can't lose her before anything truly started. As I continue to fire at the bastard, I think of her softness, her warmth, her body, that look in her eyes… My drive to keep all of that intact grows with every second of this battle.

_Click!_ Jet and I just ran out of ammo. I frantically reload my gun, trembling enough to almost lose my extra ammunition. I hear something roll on the ground and tick rapidly. Shit, he released another bomb. I look up to find the bomb rolling along a step close to the ground, and I turn to see Faye's weak body swaying about. She doesn't even realize it. My eyes shoot up as I calculate what's going to happen if she doesn't move…

I drop my gun and yell for her. "FAYE, LOOK OUT!" It seems to no avail, because she weakly stares at me. I leap toward her, grabbing the back of her head and pushing her several feet down the sidewalk, away from the building. My heart is pounding in my chest as I lose my balance. I grip her close to me and we fall to the ground. The instant my hand bangs onto the concrete, the bomb explodes. I shudder, hovering over her body to protect her from whatever the bomb is releasing. I turn to see a wave of fire growing rapidly. Whatever is happening behind that barrier doesn't matter to me anymore; Faye has got to be okay, has got to be alive.

I lift my chest off of her a little, for fear of suffocating her. She groans a little; thank God. I move my hand from behind her waist to stroke her face. Our bodies are wrapped in one another, and I refuse to let her go now. "Faye," I whisper. She flutters her eyes a little, but she's still clearly weak.

"Spike," she breathes. She smiles a tiny smile, coughing a little. Her face is a little ashy, her skin rough from her scrapes, but she's still the most beautiful woman I've laid eyes on. Nothing else mattered to me anymore; not the past, not the current bounty head. I've finally put my past to rest as I stared, anxious about Faye's health.

"Faye, please don't leave me," I begin to whimper. A tear slides down my face and rolls onto her cheek. Her eyes begin to beam at me; she's enlivening.

"Spike, I—"

I cut her off. I have to let her know. I have to say it first. "Faye, I'm in love with you."

We lie there, our bodies aching from all that we've just gone through. But that suddenly doesn't matter either. We're breathing our passion, we're breathing in love, a love that we both thought we'd never find again. We're breathing each other.

"I love you," she whispers, with more strength in her voice.

As another tear rolls down my face, she lifts her head up. She gently kisses me, and I, in the rush of passion, return the kiss earnestly. We pause after a few seconds to stare into each other's eyes. Nothing has ever felt more right. We both have finally reconciled the things that have tossed our lives into chaos. We've reconciled our pasts, and we've reconciled with each other. All we want, and all we need, is this.

Life continues to pass by us, as sirens wail in the distance, creeping up on our location. Lenny Carver falls, wounded, and is successfully apprehended. News teams flood the capitol, wanting a piece of the story. Firefighters shove their way through to stop the fires behind us. But the fire persists; it burns within Faye, and it burns within me. Nothing else matters, and we kiss sweetly into the sunset.


End file.
